The Princess and The Tutor
by lightingheartt
Summary: With no cash in his pocket & no job, it seems Troy's life is nothing short of miserable. But when the richest family in town - the Montez's, offer him a job to tutor Gabriella, their patronizing daughter, its his lucky chance. The only problem? Gabriella.
1. Chapter 1

HAPTER 1

Beep. Beep. Bee-

Troy slammed his hand over the beaten down alarm clock and rubbed his eyes with his rough dry hands. He looked at the time.

5:00am? Great it was off on the time again. He sighed and tapped it twice to see it was only 10pm. That's better now he could sleep. Tomorrow he had another job interview. For an insurance company. You see Troy was fantastic with numbers. He could do 7,450,500 x 4,230,300 in 1 minute. His brain was like a calculator.

He was a scholar in high school and he had a great future ahead of him. But then his parents died his senior year. He was left to take care of his little brother Luke. So he had to work 2 jobs, go to school, pay the bills, and make sure Luke had food to eat all at the same time. He ended up failing all his classes and quitting school. That's why he's in the situation he's in today - living in an old beat down apartment above a sub station, no job, and struggling to take car of his now 5 year old brother.

This job interview meant everything. As did the others. But this one was really important because he knew it was something he was good at. He closed his tired eyes and attempted to fall asleep. Just as sleep welcomed him in Luke yelled his name. Troy sat up quickly on his bed made out of sheets and old itchy blankets on the floor. Since he thought Luke deserved the cot and comforter. He groaned and stood - his legs aching of weakness, and walked in the next room to see Luke sweating and crying.

"Luke what's wrong bud?" Troy asked yawning and sitting next to Luke.

"I had a bad dream about mommy and daddy." He sniffled and squeezed his patched up teddy bear that he's had since birth.

Troy swallowed hard at the mention of his parents and forced a teary smile,"Hey . . . it was just a dream buddy." Troy said pulling Luke on his lap. Luke whimpered.

"Troy are you gonna leave me too?" He asked, his childish eyes filled with tears.

"No bud . . . never," Troy said squeezing Luke, "You want me to stay with you until you fall asleep? I'll sing you mom's lullaby." Luke nodded his tiny sandy brown curls bouncing at the movement.

"Okay." Troy said as he tucked Luke back in and sat next to him. He slowly began to sing until Luke's body relaxed and began to move up and down along with his calm breaths. Troy lies next to Luke and quickly fell asleep. Keeping his promise to not leave his brother.

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Gabriella walked down the steps in her Jimmy Choo's and sky blue summer dress. She popped on her gum loudly as she stomped into the house library. She sucked in an angry breath as she looked in the middle of the sunlight filled room. There was her tutor . . . Marshall who was about 50 and was Albert Einstein but in Math, not science. She pulled out her chair and crossed her arms like a baby as she fell onto the chair with a grunt. Implying that she'd rather be dead, then here with Marshall.

He looked at her through his glasses. "Do you always walk in with such a temper?" Marshall asked.

"Only when I know the first thing I'll see when I walk in is your wrinkly face. It's sickening." Gabriella said popping her gum again.

"Why must you ** me off so much?" He asked. His face was beginning to turn red with anger.

"Because Grandpa, you're my 5th tutor this month. Which you wont be for long, and until my mom gets the message that I'm not being homeschooled under any circumstances you'll be out of a job and I'll be on to ** off tutor #6." Gabriella said snapping her fingers.

"I'm not gonna give you that satisfaction, now open to page 36 in your textbook." He said smirking.

"Fine," Gabriella opened it to page 36 then closed it again. He looked at her "WHAT? You said open it . . . I did."

"Look, you're dealing with the wrong person Ms. Montez. READ PAGE 36, THE WHOLE THING." he said angrily.

"No! YOU'RE the one messing with the wrong person, you may have the power to fail me, but I have the power to give you a law suit so bad you'll be living on the streets with $0 to your name before you can say FORGIVE ME." Gabriella said throwing the textbook in his hands.

Marshall surrendered with aggravation, "You win." He gathered his books roughly and walked to the library entrance.

"Marshall Darling, done with today's lesson?" Ms. Montez smiled bumping into him.

"Your daughter doesn't need a tutor. She needs psychiatric help!" He said pushing passed her.

She sighed and walked over to Gabriella. "Darling what is wrong with you?" her mom asked.

"Figure it out, Mom." Gabriella said standing up and walking out quickly. Her mom watched her, unsure of what to do about her stubborn teenage daughter.

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Troy didn't get the job because of his dress attire. Please, what's wrong with the world? He sighed and loosened his tie before walking down the sidewalk. Thoughts were running through his head. Rent was due soon. He barely had enough to feed Luke and himself. What was he going to do? He ran his fingers through his hair and sat on a bench.

"Excuse me sir?" A voice asked. Troy looked up to see a limo driver waiting by the limo.

"Yes?" Troy asked, still pouting over the idea that he didn't get the job.

"You do realize you're on the Montez's property right?" he asked.

"Since when was a bench property?" Troy's eyes flickered from his bench to the mansion standing a few feet beside him.

"Just saying. . ." The limo driver shrugged. Troy rolled his eyes and played with his fingers, "Someone got fired." The limo driver said.

"More like unemployed and didn't get the job." Troy sighed in reminder of the situation.

"Hm. . . You uh-- good with math?" The limo driver suddenly looked over to him, curiously.

"Fantastic at math...that was my best class in high school . . . why?" Troy furrowed his eyebrows, inquisitive about the man's question.

"I over heard my boss talking about her daughter needing another math teacher..." He smiled "You sound good for the job."

"W-well who's your boss?" Troy asked nervously. He wasn't sure about this.

"Richard!" A female's soprano voice called.

"That's . . . my boss," He said nodding his head to a woman walking out in a very proper rich white dress.

"Why hello." She smiled kindly, "Richard who's this?"

"I think he could be Baby G's new tutor if you let him apply," Richard smiled a toothy grin.

"Hmmm..." She looked at her gold watch. "I've got time to interview you on the way. Hop on in," Ms. Montez smiled.

Troy brightened up and stood quickly he followed her to the limo but paused at Richard. "Thanks."

"Just doing my job sir." He laughed and closed the door as he walked to the driver's side, got in, and pulled off.

END OF CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2-

Troy had never been in a limo before. Sure, he dreamt of riding in one before. But he never realized how unbelievably luxurious they truly were. He was used to taxis and busses. He never thought he'd find himself sitting in a limo, being interviewed by quite possibly the richest woman in the city of Albuquerque.

"I'm Antonia Montez," The woman was obviously blessed with fortune - Troy could tell by the way she dressed and the way she sat with her foot tucked behind her ankle. Her hair was a delicate jet-black that fell to the end of her back. And her eyes were a deep chocolate color. She wore a knee-length skirt and a long-sleeved shirt - conservative clothing. She was nothing short of beautiful, and her Spanish accent seemed to just polish her beauty even more.

Troy politely shook her hand. He felt almost nervous at his own appearance - jeans that were over-worn, aged and faded, his navy-blue jacket that had also mellowed over time, along with the shirt he wore underneath the jacket. And his tie seemed to be in a sloppy, loose state now. Surely he couldn't have looked like someone Mrs. Montez would usually employ. "Troy Bolton." He attempted to give her his crooked smile, but figured he failed horrendously.

"Now, Richard here mentioned you said you were good with numbers?" Mrs. Montez had a sweet smile on her glossed, ruby-colored lips.

"Uh, yes mah'm," Troy didn't wipe the smile off of his face.

"How old are you, dear?"

"Nineteen."

"Ah, so are you in high school then, or college?" Mrs. Montez's solicitude made Troy's stomach churn. He didn't really want to explain his 'living conditions', or the death of his parents. Surely, the mention of dropping out of school was never a positive when it came to getting a job.

"Uh. . . about that," Troy bit his bottom lip roughly, avoiding Mrs. Montez's eager brown eyes, "My parents died not too long ago, and my brother, well, he's not old enough to fend for himself yet. . ." His eyes drifted off as he glanced out of the limo's window, finding himself back to the death of his parents. It always hurt him to think about it. They were rather close, the family had a tight bond, it seemed. And when they passed away, Troy felt as if they had taken a half of him with them. Surely, things would never be the same. And his brother, well, his brother thought his parents death was more like abandonment. He didn't quite understand the situation. Luke had the assumption that everyone in his life would leave him eventually. And Troy still was trying to convince him he would never.

"Mr. Bolton?" Mrs. Montez was obviously getting a bit impatient. She seemed like a kindhearted woman to Troy, but at the same time, he could see that some of the wealth she had must have gotten to her head. She seemed like the type of person who lived by a schedule, who could never live for the second. She probably picked out what she was going to wear the night before. Maybe she sorted all of her clothes in drawers, each drawer having a name such as 'SHORTS', or 'COCKTAIL DRESSES'. Whatever it was, there was something very straight-laced about her. She also seemed like the type of person who always gets what she wants.

"Sorry, mah'm," Troy had to bring himself back to reality instantly, "It's hard to work two jobs plus go to school. I had to support my little brother. . ." He looked down at his tattered jeans, "School was impossible. I couldn't do it." His eyes rose back up to meet Mrs. Montez's, pleading for some sort of break. "But I did have good grades, a 4.0 GPA for the first few years."

Mrs. Montez couldn't help but feel sympathy for him as she took in the hope in his blue eyes. Even for an older woman, she felt sorry for the boy, and his eyes, they seemed to reach out to her. She almost was desperate to give him the job, just to cheer him up. She could see that his life was miserable - that he really needed this. Sure, he did lack the etiquette that most of her tutors had - his hair looked messy and bedridden. And he worn a pair of Vans on his feet, which definitely destroyed his chances of looking fashionable with his tie.

"I could show you the report cards. . . I actually took all Advanced Placement classes, all four years. I was at the top half of the class, and I'm really good with Math, I scored above average on my SAT's and my ACT's. . ." Troy continued to look Mrs. Montez in the eyes, just praying to himself that she would give him the job. He didn't mind really care about what he'd have to deal with, what he'd have to do. Surely Mrs. Montez's daughter couldn't be that difficult. He was just desperate for some sort of pay, some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. His dreary, pathetic days could come to an end. Maybe, just maybe, he could figure out a way where his little brother would never say he was starving again.

"Hmm," Mrs. Montez contemplated the idea while she drummed her fingers against her lap, "why should I hire you out of all people, Mr. Bolton?"

"Mrs. Montez, I can assure you that I won't back down," Troy's eyes lit up. Maybe he did have a chance. Maybe. "I mean, not like those other guys, I'm really a hard-worker. And I'm sure I could help your daughter out."

"The others quit because of my daughter." Mrs. Montez was looking at him, expectantly. "She's not exactly easy to deal with."

"I work well with people," Troy encouraged, "I mean, I was the one in school who made all the public speeches. I was involved in tons of groups. . ."

"Well, from what I can tell, Mr. Bolton, you do seem rather personable," Mrs. Montez smiled from across the limo, "I do believe that you need a new wardrobe though." She nodded down to his clothes, skeptically.

Troy tried to hide his embarrassment as he felt his cheeks grow hot, "I'm sorry. . . I didn't have anything else, these are my best clothes." He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes from Mrs. Montez as her eyes scrutinized his appearance. Of course she wasn't satisfied. He knew she wouldn't be.

"If I offer you the job, you'll have enough to get some new one's," Mrs. Montez's frown faded as Troy's eyes drifted back up to her, hopefully, "like I've said to Gabriella's other tutors, if things progress well, we will be providing you a room at our mansion, since I imagine the lessons will be. . . day-by-day, yes?"

The idea of being in the Montez's mansion seemed all too overwhelming for Troy. His eyes widened, "Really? That's fine. . . I just. . . I have a younger brother,"

"Oh, well, he could stay with us too, we have plenty of room," Mrs. Montez gave him a reassuring smile, "but that's only if you stay consistent. I've watched far too many people walk out of that door, and I can't help but grimace."

"I'm sure your daughter is an amazing girl, Mrs. Montez,"

"She's a handful," The limo had stopped and Richard was shifting his eyes at the two from the front seat, "well, seems I've got a meeting to attend." She neatly got up from her seat and shook Troy's hand again. "You will arrive tomorrow at eight AM to get started. Do not be late, and please. . . try to find some better clothes," She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Montez," Troy breathed, a delighted grin appearing on his lips as he shook her hand a final time.

"Have a good day, Mr. Bolton." Richard had opened the door for Mrs. Montez and she slipped out of the limo, giving Troy a final wave before disappearing into a large building.

Finally, got a job. Troy couldn't help but feel buoyant about the idea.

* * *

Gabriella Montez took a sip of her Margarita. Okay, she was a bit young, but as a famous model and being filthy rich, she felt like she was allowed to do what she wanted. And her mother was at work anyways.  
The sun beat down on her Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses as she lied on her back, attempting to get the best sun tan she could possibly get. She wore a one-piece pink bathing suite that showed off her cleavage and had small yellow patterns on it. Of course it was a designer name. And her sunglasses matched, sporting golden frames. Yeah, this was the life. She took another sip of the Margarita that sat on the table next to her.

The sun created what looked like diamonds across the pool that stood in front of her. What was a mansion without a pool? And the Jacuzzi stood off to the right side, also looking clean and luxurious. For Gabriella, life was all about living large, and money meant everything. Maybe that was half the reason she never really got interested in men - money was her boyfriend.

"Miss Montez, is there anything else I can get for you?" Gabriella opened one of her eyes and noticed one of the servants standing adjacent to her, anxious to assist her in any way possible.

"Um, yes, music would be nice," Gabriella rolled her eyes beneath her sunglasses. Who sits out in the sun without music playing? She sometimes wondered if the servants were just incoherent to what made a person satisfied. She was sick and tired of telling them what to do. Surely you'd think they'd figure it out by now.

"Of course." The servant cursed underneath his breath, wondering why he even bothered getting a job like this. To stay in this mansion. He reminded himself. And pay for the bills. Somberly, he grabbed the stereo system and hooked it up outside, blasting out to some Lady Gaga, which in turn, aggravated Gabriella even more.

She hated Lady Gaga. Were the servants demented or just playing dumb? She wondered as she grimaced underneath her sunglasses. "Andrew?" She called, grumpily, "Andrew?"

Andrew was at her side, instantly, "Mah'm?"

"What is this rubbish? I can't stand Lady Gaga. You know that. Can't you put on some real music, like you know, Daft Punk, or something?" Gabriella suggested, bitterly. "You'd think you'd know my favorite tunes by now. It's been how many months since you've moved in?"

"I apologize, Miss, I'll put in some Daft Punk right away!" Andrew hastily headed towards the stereo and put in one of the many Daft Punk CD's that the Montez's owned. On his way, he murmured unintelligent things and regretted the idea of being employed as Gabriella Montez's servant. The woman is out of her mind.

Gabriella laid out in the sun until about five PM, when she heard the limo pull up near her driveway. Lazily, she got up from her spot and hid behind the large white fence that boarded off the backyard from the front yard. Her front yard remained perfect - a lawn of green which never left it's color. Of course. Professional gardeners. It's what you can do with a lot of money.

She watched as a young man, about her age, got out of the limo. She winced her eyes, unable to get a vivid image of him. Her mother must have given him an interview on her way to the meeting. From the back, she could tell his hair was nothing less of a brunette mop. It seemed to part off to the side, but fall below his eyebrows without covering his eyes. Yeah. But she wondered to herself if he actually washed his hair. He had to. It looked too great to not be washed. She continued staring. Was her mom seriously converting to younger men to make her want to learn? Seriously? How ridiculous was that?  
The mystery boy scratched the back of his head then turned around, still saying things to Richard, the limo driver. Gabriella couldn't help but notice how blue the guys' eyes were. She got the impression that he didn't have much money since his clothes were faded and looked like he may have gotten them from Goodwill. But he did have a cute face, if that said anything. And then something funny happened, while Gabriella was watching him, he seemed to notice her - his blue eyes met her brown one's. Feeling self-conscious and rather idiotic, Gabriella pulled herself away from him, darting for the back door. She took off her sunglasses and took a glimpse of her long, graciously dark hair, which was curled in spirals.

She was the girl that got whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She was the boss and nobody could ever control her. Especially not her mother. Her mother wanted her to live up to her standards - brilliant and quick on her toes. Gabriella was never the rocket scientist and she never wanted to be. She felt like her purpose in life was to look pretty and smile for the cameras. Oh, and to not eat too much, because that would make her gain weight. She maintained her purpose rather well. It was getting her enough money. Why would she have to learn, go to college, get a real career? Wasn't modeling a good enough career?

"Imbeciles," She murmured, "I don't need an education, and I'm definitely buying into a tutor, no matter how good-looking he is." She flipped her hair so it stayed at her sides and then slammed the bathroom door on her way out.

"Mrs. Montez. . ." One of the servants began as Gabriella made her way up the stairs, but decided against saying anything when she slammed her bedroom door. "Dear Lord, when are they going to get a handle on that child?"

Another servant snickered, "Oh, I think the new tutor may do the job." She was one of the only female servants, and she was smirking, knowingly.

"Why do you say that?" The other female servant asked.

"Well, he's really cute - Mrs. Montez sure did a good job this time."

END OF CHAPTER.

--whitney


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3-

Troy's POV:

I couldn't believe I had just gotten my first job. I mean obviously it wasn't my first. I used to work at Jerry's Sub Shop when I was in high school but that was about it. I'd never taken my amount of knowledge for granted, but at the same time my former job had not done it any justice.  
I wore a small smile on my face as I thought of my future. Luke and I wouldn't have to live in that dump we call a home for awhile, after all Ms. Montez had offered a stay in her home.

Even though these plans seemed great, I had read about Ms. Montez's daughter. She was rumored to be incredibly beautiful on the outside but as a ugly as a witch on the inside. This scared me. If I did succeed long enough in this job to where Luke and I did move in with them, would Ms. Montez's daughter make it a bad living space for Luke? Also about the rumor of her beauty, I never saw a picture of her in the newspaper. Or maybe there were pictures on the following page, but the guy at the stand never gave me time to finish unless I was paying for it.

The thought of my struggles over the years had brought tears to my eyes. its not until you actually see someone who has a higher life style than you that you notice how bad your life is. I've noticed my life was terrible before but seeing Ms. Montez's preview of life today just made my life seem worse.  
I sighed and continued my journey; I had to hurry home to Luke, make sure he was okay, feed him food. I could only afford at the moment a meal for him, so I would go hungry again tonight. I really didn't care though. I've decided that this would be the last night that the situation would be only one of us. Could it though?

Tomorrow was my first day on the job, and I was determined to work my butt off. If the rumors of Ms. Montez's daughter's horrid actions were true..I would just have to stick it out - no more games. It was time to get serious.

Gabriella's POV:

I was lying on my bed thinking about the encounter that just happened outside, confused by why the boy was in my mothers limo. I was also confused on why I had got a funny feeling in my stomach when my eyes met his own. I figured that it was just embarrassment that I got caught ease-dropping, but I never get embarrassed so--oh never mind it.

I slowly sat up and looked myself in the mirror as I sat on my bed. I honestly could say I was looking for stress lines. I'm sure there had to be a small crease in my forehead, and if there was one it would have to someway be covered up with makeup. My mother did not accept wrinkles or bruises or anything that would harm my beautiful structure. I may have seemed beautiful on the outside but on the inside I was a old Italian statue - with cracks and broken pieces caused by the powerful stress from my mother. She always expected me to be perfect. I couldn't harm my skin or beauty because that would mean artists wouldn't want to use me in their magazines. My mother wouldn't get the money. I was crying out for her attention. I acted this way because of her, because I was desperate for her to notice she was causing this. Nobody would ever know that though.

Once I was satisfied that there was nothing wrong with my forehead, I stood and walked downstairs to get some water. I was fairly hungry but weight was another unacceptable thing from my mother.

I looked at the clock. I was shocked to find that I must of been upstairs studying my face for not one but TWO hours. This shocked me. My mother would be home soon; it was getting late so she would tell me to go get beauty sleep. I was not to get bags under my eyes. See the pressure? And on top of my mother issue I was now having the feeling of desire. By desire I mean the urge to see that boy again. I was even more muddled.

"I need to sit down," I said aloud. A maid rushed over and pulled out a chair for me.

I sat down and she still stood there. I glared up at her, "GO!" I shouted.

She scurried off in fear.

I sat my head down on my arms. I should have asked her for Tylenol before I shooed her off.

I just sipped my water and continued to think. I had never thought this much in my whole life. If I didn't understand something my maids were the ones who found the answer - but this answer, I needed to figure it out myself. I groaned. Who knew using my brain was this hard? Oh, yeah, everyone.

Just as I stood from the table to go sleep off my stress, my mother walked in with Richard following behind her with shopping bags. She rushed up the stairs and Richard did his best to follow as quickly as possible.

"What the?" I asked myself, before following them.

I ended up in my mothers bedroom where I saw her pouring out dresses, jewelry and shoes from the bags onto her queen-sized bed. I put my hands on my hips and walked over to her. She didn't even look at me.

"Oh..." I sighed sadly. Still nothing from Mother-Shopaholic. "Oh..." I repeated but she still just smiled in awe at herself as she held a dress up to her body in the mirror "OH!!!!" I screamed. She jumped and slowly turned to me.

"Oh hello Darling," She smiled sweetly.

"Don't 'oh hello darling' me Mother! What's all this!?" I asked waving my arms and referring to the clothes surrounding me.

"Dresses," She said.

I put my hands to my chest with a huge smile. "For me--?" I began.

"Me." She was beaming.

"Oh joy. What closet are you going to put them in this time? The one in the basement?" I asked. I wasn't joking. I was being sarcastic. My mother only shops for herself. When she ran out of room in her closet she put the new clothes in the hallway closet. When she ran out of room in the hallway closet she put them in another closet. The only two closets left that had some room was the two guest rooms and my--

"Yours." She answered with a slight shrug.

"Excuse em' moi?" I asked in my fluent French. I learned it from an ex French boyfriend who used to be my photographer but when we turned into something more and broke up...well let's just say someone got fired and it wasn't me. "Why cant you use the guest room closet?"

My mother paused as if she was hiding something. "Oh I just figured that way I could be closer to you - through clothes," She said nervously before passing by me and picking up a red dress.

I turned and faced her. "When have you ever tried to get close to me....THROUGH anything?" I asked using her 'through clothes' metaphor. I couldn't help but raise my voice.

"Well it was a last minute decision," She said in her high pitched voice.

"Wait a minute. . . you're hiding something!" I accused, knowing something was up.

"Oh darling el-oh-el," She said in such a delicate manner as she rolled her eyes.

"Did you just--YOU know LOL?" I asked in shock. She couldn't.

"Yes I learned it today as a matter of fact," my mom smiled.

"Uh-huh." I paused "Well that's enough BS for me to handle today so I'm gonna go," I said walking out with my heels clicking behind me. Today was too stressful. I needed sleep, now.

The Next Day: Troy's POV:

I was on my way to the Montez Residence, Luke with me. I expected him to ask a million questions but since I had enough money to buy him an ice cream he was busy eating that. I was thankful though because I had to think of my lesson plan for today.

Should I do the old fashion give Ms. Montez's daughter a quiz, to see what she needs to be taught? Or should I just begin teaching her what I know? Which believe me...I knew enough to last a lifetime for her.

I looked down at my little brother. He had ice cream all over his face. I laughed and bent down, "Luke what are you doing buddy?" I asked taking a napkin out of my pocket and wiping his face.

"I eat..ice cream. " He grinned, triumphantly.

"Yes, you also are making a mess," I smiled back and threw the napkin away.  
I then walked back over to him and looked at him for awhile.

"What?" He asked "You want my ice cream, don't you?" He said pouting and looking down at his ice cream.

"No." I shook my head.

"Good," He said licking the last bit of it and then throwing it away. I smiled and took his hand.

Only a few more minutes and we'd be there. I was a little nervous. I mean come on, I had brought my little brother with me the first day, on the job. Not only that but Ms. Montez bought me a new work suit that didn't fit and sent it to my doorstep this morning. It was black work pants with a tight white shirt and an matching black over jacket. She didn't include shoes so my worn down Vans would just have to do. Did I mention I was wearing a belt and the white shirt was tucked in? That you can guess made it even more uncomfortable.

Luke was so lucky. He was in a blue shirt with baby jeans and baby booties. I laughed at the thought that he was better dressed than me.

"Look Troy, Look!" Luke's voice startled me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at him. "What?" I said calmly and then followed his finger. I was now looking in front of me to see the Montez Residence.

"Holy. . ." I began,

"**!" Luke said excitedly.

The music playing in my head suddenly cut short. I looked at Luke, "Where did you hear that!?" I asked quite loudly.

"I don't know," He said shrugging casually.

"Luke, don't say that its a bad word," I lectured pointing at him.

"What? **?" He asked.

"Yes, **," I said.

"But yoooouuu said it," He said, accusingly.

"I didn't say **," I argued.

"You said it a-again" He said giggling.

I sighed. "Luke just don't say that word, especially while we're here" I said smiling weakly.

"Okay, fine." He said crossing his arms, grudgingly.

"Um, Mr. Bolton?" A voice asked. Ms. Montez appeared in front of us.

"Hi," I blushed, hoping she didn't overhear us.

"Come inside," She ushered, "And bring that little cutie pie,"

I nodded and waited until she turned around to sigh in relief. I then took Luke by the hand and followed her.

Gabriella's POV:

I looked at myself in the mirror. I had just finished getting ready. I was wearing a Gypsy '05 Paloma purple rainbow silk maxi dress. I had got it shortened so it stopped at my knees. I topped it off with two golden upper arm bracelets and white platinum heels. I was wearing clear minty lip gloss and my hair was straightened and relaxing calmly on my shoulders. I strutted from my bed to the mirror in a model runway form. If I was runway ready it was safe to walk out the house. I smiled, so far so good. Just one more walk and--

Wait. I just heard a baby laugh. When was there ever a baby in my house? I frowned and heard it again. Slowly I turned off my runway music and stormed out of my room. I didn't care if it was a baby it interrupted my morning walk. Since it did, it was about to get a piece of my heel in it's little hiney!

"..And this is the library where you will be teaching my daughter." I heard my mother explain.

"Wow," Drawled a masculine voice.

"Mother! Did you invite another married man to the house!? I mean this time he brought his kid when will you lea--" I yelled as I walked around the corner. I then stopped dead in my tracks as the person that the masculine voice belonged to turned around.

I had recognized him from yesterday - the boy that stepped out of the limo. My mouth slowly propped open in slight shock.

His attire was better today. He was in black work pants and a matching over coat. He also was wearing a tight white, tucked in shirt under. It showed off his toned muscles well. I glanced all the way down to see he was wearing Vans. I snorted and bent over in laughter. When I straightened back up still laughing my mother glared at me. "What?" I asked.

END OF CHAPTER


End file.
